


Oh, Sandman, bring us a dream

by bonotje



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Motorsport Secret Santa 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonotje/pseuds/bonotje
Summary: A 15 hour journey home, lazy FIFA matches, a nearly missed interview and a boyfriend up to no good.Or Max and Lando arrive back home to Monaco after the race in Brazil.
Relationships: Lando Norris/Max Verstappen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92
Collections: Motorsport Secret Santa 2019





	Oh, Sandman, bring us a dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipintheisland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipintheisland/gifts).



> Written for shipintheisland for the 2019 Motorsport Secret Santa. 
> 
> This is basically 2.5k words of not a lot, but I do hope you enjoy these two being domestic together and Lando being a little shit. I hope it makes you laugh and feel bubbly inside like you asked for :).
> 
> (Translations for the Dutch sentences are in the notes below.)

“Argh, why do I suck so much at this game?!” Lando exclaims as he loses yet another FIFA match to Max. 

“Well I think lying down and barely facing the TV might have something to do with it, babe,” Max chuckles, his hand falling on top of Lando’s head to ruffle the messy curls. He’d managed to win from Lando five times now, even when the Brit had still been sat upright and hadn’t been lying down with his head in Max’s lap like right now. When it came to iRacing they were pretty equal, but on FIFA Max always had him beat. “Do you wanna go again, or are you done for today?” he adds as Lando tries to hide a yawn behind the controller in his hands. 

“Hmm, it’s because you’re too comfy, but yeah I think I’m done. Can we just watch something instead?” He’s already pressed the exit button on his controller, switching from the FIFA app to the Netflix logo on the Playstation home screen. 

“Yeah, you pick something, I gotta go pee first, I’ve had someone pressing into my bladder all night,” he says with a pointed look, lifting Lando’s head from his lap, the other man complaining loudly about it. 

“You make it sound like you’re pregnant.”

“With your kid? That little gremlin would never sit still,” he says with a shake of his head as he walks to the bathroom to relieve himself. He knows it was only a joke, but kids were definitely not on the cards for them yet, both of them barely adults themselves. Though he can’t deny that he has thought of it before, what it would be like to have a mini Lando running around. Soft little curls bouncing around as the little one toddles over to him in Red Bull or McLaren gear, the big headphones slipping from their ears. 

He shakes the, admittedly very cute, image from his head and walks back into the living room. His eyes immediately fall to the empty bag of crisps on the coffee table, the crunched up Red Bull cans beside it, the image of the unopened pair of suitcases he knows are still in the hallway accompanying it. No, they definitely weren’t ready to take care of anyone besides themselves yet. 

He sees that Lando has started up an episode of Breaking Bad, they’d both seen the show before but were rewatching it together now. They’re somewhere halfway through season 2 now, the flight back from Brazil speeding up their progress considerably, even though he’s pretty sure Lando slept through at least half of those episodes. The Brit had made an adorable sight all squashed up in the plush first class seat, a few curls poking out from the hoodie pulled over his head, lips falling open in a pout. 

He himself had only just fallen asleep on their longest flight when the plane had started to make its descent into Amsterdam, the drop jolting him back awake. It hadn’t been a pretty sight, his long limbs flailing about as he’d tried to get his bearings. The fluorescent lighting of the airport hadn’t helped either, waking him up even more and by the time they had boarded their second flight he was still wide awake. 

So whilst Lando slept he’d started up some documentary in the hopes of following him along to the land of nod, instead he’d ended up learning everything about how LEGO was made, the bright colours of the bricks and the quirky yellow figurines only managing to keep his overtired brain from giving in to the pull of sleep. 

It has been about 20 hours since they left Brazil and with only thirty minutes of sleep in those 20 hours he’s been stifling yawn after yawn, his body begging him for its much needed rest. So far every attempt at trying to get that rest has been fruitless though, his brain bringing up the view from on top of the podium every time he’s started to nod off. The chanting of his name echoing inside his head to go along with it. So instead of sleeping they’d ended up playing FIFA, round after round of FIFA. And even with his overtired brain he’d easily managed to move the players along quicker and smarter than Lando, only getting beaten once. 

“I’m really just your human pillow huh?” he chuckles as Lando digs his head back into his lap as soon as he sits back down. 

“Mhm, they’re the best kind of pillows, they come with bonus head scratches,” he says, pointedly bumping his head back into Max’s hand like a cat would.

“You gonna purr as well?”

Lando grumbles a little, before pressing his head back against Max’s hand once again, letting out a pleased sound when Max buries his fingers in his curls and starts scratching his head. 

\---

“Shit,” Max curses as he sees the multitude of messages and missed calls from his manager on his phone, the last attempt to call him having finally woken him up. He scans the messages reminding him of his Facetime interview with Ziggosport and quickly hits the call button to call his manager back. “Raymond, hey, I’m so sorry I fell asleep, fucking jetlag. Do we still have time?” He rushes out as soon as the call connects. 

“Max, finally! You’ve got about 10 minutes to get your ass behind your computer, I can’t hold of Ziggo for much longer they’re already halfway through the show.”

“Right okay, I’ll go start it up right now. Bye, sorry again.”

“It’s okay, just go.”

He hangs up and looks down at where Lando is still sleeping peacefully in his lap, the jetlag knocking him out as well. However bad he feels about waking him up though, he really needs to get off the sofa and behind his computer right now.

“Baby, hey wake up,” he says, softly shaking Lando’s shoulder to wake the younger man up. A confused frown pulls at his brows for a second before his eyes blink open slowly. 

“W’ssup?”

“Gotta do an interview.”

Lando grumbles a little but lifts his head enough to let Max get up from the sofa, his eyes closing again as soon as Max’s lap is replaced by a throw pillow. 

—-

He’s in the middle of the interview when he sees Lando’s messy hair pop up from the sofa, a yawn stretching his mouth as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He can’t help the soft smile from appearing on his face, the question being asked going right over his head. 

“Sorry, wat zei je?”

He manages to draw his attention back long enough to catch the question the second time it’s prompted, something about his stint on the mediums when Lewis had started to catch up to him. He drawls back an answer he’s pretty sure he’s given word-for-word before in some other interview, but they don’t seem to care all (fake) smiles before they move onto the next question. 

It’s then that he sees Lando start to move from the corner of his eye, his eyes following him as he rounds the sofa and walks towards the kitchen. It all looks fairly innocent, if it weren’t for the smirk he can see playing on Lando’s face. His boyfriend is up to something, and he just knows he will try to make him crack during this interview, he just doesn’t know how yet. 

Another question, with another mindless answer and then he can see Lando reappearing from the kitchen, a glass of milk in his hand. He raises it to his mouth slowly as he leans against the doorframe and waits for Max’s gaze to drift away from his computer screen to turn to him instead. He quirks an eyebrow once Max finally does, taking another deliberate sip from his milk, his tongue flicking up to slowly lick away the milk moustache that’s left behind. And Lando being Lando he can’t even stop himself from bursting out laughing as soon as he’s done it, his poor attempt at being sexy ruined immediately. He can feel the corners of his mouth quirk up, his brain not picking up any of the words that filter through his earphones once again. 

He draws his gaze back to the screen in front of him, trying to hide the smile on his face by leaning his head in his hand. They’re showing his first pitstop, his own angry voice filtering in through the earphones as they play his teamradio after he’d nearly crashed into Kubica. He tells them about how he nearly stalled the car and had feared of a repeat of last year, all the great work from the team ruined by the incident. Then his attention is drawn away again as he hears the chair on the other side of the table creak, Lando now leaning over the back of it, his head resting in his hand as he pretends to listen intently to what he’s saying. 

He tries his best to listen to what Jack is saying, something about the restarts now so they must be getting close to the end of the interview, but Lando has now started to move his hand next to his face like a puppet, mouthing  _ blah blah blah. _ He’s started in on a full on act now, pretending to be falling asleep and yawning wide before he switches tactics and just decides to poke his tongue out at Max. 

He rolls his eyes at Lando quickly before focussing back in on the TV studio on his laptop screen. How he’s managed to fool them into thinking he’s paying any attention to them at all he doesn’t know. But right when he thinks that Lando starts to wave at him vehemently, trying his damned best to get him to look up at him again. When he draws his eyes away from the laptop once more he sees that Lando has moved to sit down in the chair, somehow having found one of his orange caps that he is now wearing sideways on his head. He’s crossed his eyes and is sending him very pouty kissy faces, that nearly has Max cracking up. He somehow manages to keep a relatively straight face for all of that, but it’s when Lando leans back in the desk chair and almost topples it over, only catching himself just in time with a shout and a lot of flailing limbs, that has him bursting out laughing. 

“Sorry, er is hier iemand heel druk bezig om mij af te leiden,” he eventually manages to get out as explanation for his distraction and sudden laughing fit. A mixture of confused and amused faces greeting him on the other side of the screen now. 

“Oh echt waar, wil die persoon misschien ook graag even in beeld dan?” Jack asks him, clearly very curious about who is on the other side of Max’s desk. Max looks back over towards Lando, a sheepish smile on his boyfriend’s face now and he figures Lando might as well face the consequences of his actions. 

“You wanna show your face to the camera, troublemaker?” He quips, nodding quickly at Lando’s questioning face, making sure to let Lando know it’s alright. The questioning frown is quickly replaced by a cheeky grin though, the other man scrambling up from the chair and walking over to the other side of the desk to join Max. 

“Hi guys, sorry for distracting Max.”

“Oh now you’re sorry. I’m doing a serious interview here b- Lando,” Max shoots back, before Jack or Frank can even get a word in, almost slipping up with the term of endearment. 

“Lando Norris, what are you doing at Max’s house?” Jack asks switching to a slightly broken English, repeating the question when Max hands one of his earpieces to Lando so he can actually hear what he’s asking. If Lando sits a little closer than is maybe necessary, Max surely isn’t complaining. 

“Uhmmm, I’m here discussing with Max who the Orange army really belongs to, clearly they’re all McLaren fans, right?”

He doesn’t know how Lando manages to spin an if not convincing then at least funny lie on the spot like that, but he’s grateful his boyfriend saved them with his quick witted answer.

“Well it looks like you’re part of Max’s army yourself Lando,” Jack laughs, waving his hand around his head to indicate the cap that’s still on Lando’s head. 

“What no! He stole our design, got a big lawsuit coming his way actually,” Lando says taking the hat off in offense. He tries to remain serious, pretend he’s offended by the thought of supporting Max’s brand, but he can’t stop himself from bursting out laughing pretty much as soon as he’s said it, the laughter being echoed back to them from the studio many miles away in Hilversum. 

“I’m not so sure about that, but what I do know is that you probably just added quite a few more people to your own orange army just now Lando.”

“I guess I’ll settle for that, for now,” Lando replies with a wink. 

“Well sadly that’s about all the time we have for our call with Max and special guest Lando Norris. Good luck for the next race in Abu Dhabi boys.”

“Thank you. Bye!” They say in unison, waving to the camera with matching grins.

“You’re the worst you know,” Max groans as soon as the video call disconnects. He’d managed most of the interview without breaking, but of course Lando would get him in the end. “At least you saved us with that story, how the hell you managed to come up with that so quickly I don’t even know.”

“Y’think they bought it.”

“Of course not! But at least they didn’t ask any more questions about it,” Max says before yawning wide, the short nap they’d taken earlier clearly not enough to make up for the hours of sleep he’d missed since coming home from Brazil. 

“I dunno Max, I think I’d make a pretty good actor,” Lando quips, pretending to act out a scene in a play, wild gestures and all. He shakes his head, this man was ridiculous but he loved him all the more for it. A fond smile spreads on his face as he listens to Lando reciting  _ To be or not to be  _ in a horrible accent. He can’t help stifling another yawn though, his eyes blinking back open a little slower every time they close.  __

“Pizza and bed,” Lando suggests cutting off his recital of Shakespeare mid sentence as he spots Max yawning, already going to find the flyer from the pizza place around the corner. 

“Pizza and bed.”

~fin~

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> “Sorry, wat zei je?” = "Sorry, what did you say?"  
> “Sorry, er is hier iemand heel druk bezig om mij af te leiden,” = "Sorry, someone is trying very hard to distract me,"  
> “Oh echt waar, wil die persoon misschien ook graag even in beeld dan?” = "Oh really, does this person maybe wanna be on screen as well then?"
> 
> Thank you for reading and as always kudos and comments make my little writers heart soar. And you can find me on tumblr at [sleepyverstappens](http://www.sleepyverstappens.tumblr.com) Prompts are always welcome as well :D


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